


Bathtime

by CaptainnAustralia



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainnAustralia/pseuds/CaptainnAustralia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Ladynorthstar's art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladynorthstar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ladynorthstar).
  * Inspired by [Bathtime](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5697) by Ladynorthstar. 



“Clint…”

“Come on Bruce, you  _need_  to relax. Let me help you.” Bruce was sure that Clint was trying to sound innocently supportive – but his words came out predatory and accented with a purr.

To be honest, Bruce really didn’t mind when Clint did things like this, pulling off something surprisingly romantic on short notice. It had been genuinely nice to have Clint drag him out of the lab and push him – literally push – into the bathroom, where he’d drawn a wonderfully warm bath filled to the brim with fluffy, soft bubbles. It had been equally nice to have had Clint peel stiff clothing off his back and rub at the bunched, tired muscles before ordering him in the steaming tub.

And it had been even nicer when Clint had thrown his clothes into the basket in the corner and slipped in behind him, working strong, callused hands into Bruce’s shoulders until he was heavy lidded and about ready to just fall asleep right then and there.

The problem here was when the massage had ended and Bruce had leaned into Clint. The blonde man had wrapped long arms around him, laying them on the flat plains of his stomach.

“You should shampoo your chest too, you know Bruce?” He said nuzzling into Bruce’s neck while Bruce struggled to stay awake in this very comfortable place, his fingers tangling in the short hairs there.

“You’re not funny, Clint, not at all.” Bruce said with a small smile that he knew Clint couldn’t see. Well, that wasn’t really the problem, the kisses or the jokes or the hands. The problem had started when Clint’s hands  _drifted_.

“Clint,  _no_. It’s too dangerous.” He  _hated_  saying no to Clint. He hated watching the excitement and hope in his eyes spark across to guilt, annoyance and frustration, or how Clint would frown and try and put up an argument until Bruce shot him down with all his usual arguments.

This time, however, Clint’s hand tightened and he slipped around in the tub – Bruce quietly thanking Tony’s necessity in having overly large tubs – until he was facing Bruce, one hand still resting on the his abdomen.

“Bruce… please. Let’s at least  _try_.”

“You  _want_  me to Hulk out and kill you in the bath?” Clint sighed heavily. They’d had this discussion before. It killed Clint inside that the physical side of their relationship was heavily weighted towards him – he  _liked_  Bruce. A lot. He wanted to… well; prove that, in a way.  No, this wasn’t happening this time; Bruce was NOT backing out.

Clint pushed Bruce so that he slid to the back edge of the bath and pushed himself so that he was laying over Bruce like he might if they were going to bed. But then Clint brought his other hand around and gasped at Bruce’s dick.

“Clint!” Bruce gasped, jumping in the confined space. His arm ended up around Clint’s shoulders, and his grip tightened almost painfully there, a knee shooting up out of the water on Clint’s other side, only succeeding in trapping the blonde closer against Bruce’s body.

“Bruce,” Clint said softly, leaning in with a grin, his lips grazing Bruce’s ear, “I’ll go slow. Really, really slow. Maybe that’ll help.” Clint watched as Bruce had to close his eyes and swallow determinedly, a trickle of nervous sweat brewing on his forehead. Clint kept his hand completely still but Bruce was already swelling in anticipation.

“ _Relax._  I’ve got you.”

Clint wasn’t kidding. He went  _slow_ , his stokes deliberate and well timed, focusing more on the soft presses of fingers, rolling over delicate places. He paid close attention to the smooth sound of Bruce’s breathing as the other man tilted his head back, counting quietly. He was counting breaths. Clint pressed careful lips against Bruce’s newly exposed throat, sucking lightly while his hand continued its agonizingly slow assault. Bruce groaned and his counting stopped.

“Clint…” This time the name didn’t come out as an attempt to stop him, but a breathy, encouraging moan, Bruce’s hand tightening on Clint’s shoulder and his head pushing forward again to find Clint’s lips.

Clint  _loved_  that. The sound of his name slipping out like it was never supposed to be spoken but Bruce just couldn’t help himself. He pushed into the kiss and pulled some excruciatingly deliberate strokes while he sucked on Bruce’s tongue. He could feel Bruce tensing under his hold, the hand on his stomach able to feel every tightening of his muscles there. To be honest, Clint was surprised Bruce managed to hang on this long – it had probably been a while.

This was it.

One of two things were about to happen.

Bruce was going to come and they would need to empty the bath and jump in the shower, to which Clint had no objections.

 _Or…_

He would hulk out, probably kill Clint and then live in guilt for the rest of his life.

Clint couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath when Bruce pushed forward, crushing lips bruisingly against Clint’s and convulsing lightly under him. There was a long silent pause before Clint opened one eye, followed by the other, and then a grin, pulling out of the kiss while Bruce swallowed at air, eyes wide and pupils shot.

“So,” Clint said lightly, “shower?”


End file.
